


the things you keep from yourself

by amuk



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Introspection, Marriage, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: Felix had a list of names he gave to stray cats he fed. He wondered if Byleth had one too.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	the things you keep from yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cynx_17_kh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynx_17_kh/gifts).



> Prompt: Domestic Felix and Byleth after the war. Falling further in love now that they’re not constantly fighting for their lives. They still spar frequently, but it’s definitely a form of foreplay for them. There’s teasing, light insults, and jokes all around as they spar. Byleth still wins most of the time, much to Felix’s dismay. They have several cats together and they feed the strays as well.  
> Bonus: Byleth is/gets pregnant and they be all domestic together talking about baby names and buying things for the baby.
> 
> I mostly incorporated your prompts, I hope you like this. =D

i.

Byleth breathed out while she swung her sword, her long hair flowing behind her as she pressed forward. It wasn’t so much a breath as an explosion of air, her hand as strong now as it had been six years ago.

“Hah!” Felix grunted in response, parrying her sword. His arm strained from the pressure and his heels dug into the ground. Gripping his sword tightly, he pushed her sword away.

She let her sword move, using the momentum to strike back with two times the pressure. As usual, there was a fluidity to her movement, a grace that he had only found in Dorothea’s dances. Byleth gritted her teeth as she swiveled on a foot, using the force of her arc to push him back.

They had been together for over a year now and yet somehow she still managed to find ways to surprise him, to use her sword in ways he hadn’t come to expect. It was glorious. Marvelous. The only sound in the training room was the sound of their swords clashing, of their feet changing stances, of their laboured breathing. Their swords struck again and again, and Felix glared at her as they pushed against one another. Byleth grinned back ferally, her eyes bright, her skin flushed, coming alive in ways she didn’t do otherwise.

Then again, the same could be said for him. It was like looking at a mirror image and he wondered if she saw him as clearly as he did her. They knew each other best in the heat of battle, war machines running on adrenaline as they thrust and cut. She relaxed her pose and he stumbled forward, only for her shift her weight once more and knock the blade out of his hand. Without stopping, she tackled him to the ground, a winning blow.

“Oof,” he gasped as he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him. His head clacked against the ground and he lay there, dazed. A comfortable weight settled around his waist, Byleth pressing him to the ground as she straddled him. The sword in her hand slipped under his jaw, forcing his head up so as to not draw blood. There was no squirming out of this position. Felix’s hands were trapped at his sides and he sighed. “Your win.”

“My win,” she repeated, dropping the sword with a smirk. Leaning forward, she grasped his collar and pulled his mouth towards hers, claiming his lips with a savage kiss.

Not one to back down from a fight, whatever type it was, he bit her lip, drawing blood. Waiting for the moment he could flip her over. His hands rested on her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and he growled as she pulled him closer.

(It was never close enough)

ii.

It was a good thing that Felix liked back alleys, the less travelled streets that were almost empty of any traffic. There were many uses to them—an exit no one knew about, a place to hide when he didn’t want to be found, a path away from prying eyes.

And, in times like this, when he found himself surrounded by ten stray cats, a guarantee that no one would see him. Felix wasn’t sure if he could explain just how he’d ended up like this, crouched on the ground, doling out strips of raw chicken to starving cats. Even worse, he was afraid there was something like a smile on his face, and he really didn’t want anyone to catch him like that. It was the kind of news he knew would reach Sylvain’s ears somehow and even if he planned on never seeing his childhood friend again, just _knowing_ Sylvain would find his current predicament entertaining was painful without it actually happening.

Two grey cats butted heads as they tried to snatch a piece of chicken and Felix clicked his tongue as he tossed another one their way. “There’s plenty for all of you.” He paused, eyeing them both before adding, “Oscar. Finn.” The names rolled off his tongue more naturally than he’d like. It had been easy naming the cats, far too easy. He didn’t realize he had a list of names until he’d started—Matilda, Violet, Jasper, and Arthur. Theodore. Alice.

The ring around his neck weighed heavily with each name. What would Byleth think of the names? It was a silly thought, he didn’t even know what he thought of the names. Still. What would her expression be if she found him like this, entertaining a hoard of hungry cats, naming them all? When they’d married, a quick affair at court that no one was aware of, they’d never discussed the future. Not really. They hadn’t even talked about joining Byleth’s old mercenary group before doing so; it had seemed obvious at the time. In a world of peace, fighting for money was the only way to fight at all.

He didn’t regret his choice; it wasn’t in him to second guess his actions. Even now, he wasn’t ready to let go of his sword, his hand more comfortable gripping the hilt than a shovel. But this travelling, going from town to town with the wind, it wasn’t feasible to have a child in this environment. Even now, Felix hardly knew the name of where they were. They could barely raise a pet, let alone a child.

Would Byleth care? Maybe, but she’d grown up like this, roaming was what she did.

Did he care?

That was a harder question. A cat rubbed his hand, dragging Felix back to the present, and once again a name, _Leo_ , came to his mind, unbidden.

iii.

“Ouch,” Byeth hissed, flinching as Felix pressed a cold sponge on her bloody arm. He kept his grip on her tight before she could pull away entirely.

“You weren’t careful,” he chided. Squeezing the sponge in a bowl of water, he tried to dab it on her skin more gently this time. He wasn’t made to be tender and the sponge felt awkward in his hands, but as he stared at the blood welling up on her arm, at her pale skin and pained expression, he wanted to try. Just this once. “You could have blocked that last strike. Your guard was down.”

Byleth bit her lip, unable to refute him. She glanced at her right arm, watching as he meticulously cleaned the wound. “Is it deep?”

Setting aside the sponge, he examined her cut with his long fingers, prodding here and there. Her skin was warm. She was alive. He only stopped when blood started to ooze out of the wound once more. “It’s shallow, luckily.”

Extremely luckily. When her face had twisted with pain, as she fell on the battlefield after getting struck, Felix had only seen red as he hacked at her attacker. It had felt deadly at the time, everything moved in slow motion as he carried her out of her field. He had never considered her death before this. He didn’t want to think of it ever again.

“Good.” Byleth sighed with relief and he clucked his tongue in annoyance.

“That doesn’t mean you can relax.” He picked up a cotton soaked in alcohol and pressed it against the wound. “You can’t use this arm for a while. Next battle, you’ll stay behind.”

She grimaced but stayed still. Brow furrowing, she shook her head, disagreeing with his assessment. “It’s not that bad. A little rest and I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t make it worse,” he disagreed, grabbing the bandages now. Dragging a stool next to her, he sat down and carefully wrapped her injury. “Just let yourself heal.”

“Like you do?” Her lips quirked, amusement colouring her tone, and she was going to fine if she could tease him like that.

Instead of answering, he tugged the bandage extra tight.

iv.

Byleth was asleep. Felix blinked as he woke up, listening to her steady breathing. Byleth was asleep and this was almost as rare as catching an eclipse; she was almost always awake before him. Carefully, he turned around, lying on his side to watch her better. His arm was wrapped around her waist and he tried not to stir him with his movement.

Fortunately, she must have been more tired than he thought. Her face scrunched slightly before smoothening over, sleep claiming her entirely. Propping his head up on his hand, he watched as she dozed, her hair splayed around her on the pillow.

There was something peaceful about this moment. Peace. He never thought he’d be grateful for it. Then again, he never thought that love was something he’d feel either. Not when he was student, too angry at everyone for his brother’s death. Not in the five years after, when all that was left for him was fighting.

Yet now love laid beside him, filling his heart and his throat and for a moment he understood Sylvain and his incessant flirting. Or the long ballads Dorothea would sing about lovers and midnight trysts.

Or, at his worst, Ingrid’s grief at Glen’s death, the brittle wall she’d built up as she refused to let another in so deep into her heart.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Byleth died. Maybe he’d become the boar, killing everyone and everything. Or maybe he’d fade away, unable to sustain himself. Felix wasn’t sure which idea scared him more.

v.

Somehow, every town had its fill of stray cats. The ones in this town hid by the docks, wild calico coloured cats with scars on their eyes and a taste for fish. They were better fed than the ones he’d found before, but he’d never found an animal who turned its nose up at food, no matter how full they were.

Sitting on the steps to the local fish market, he started tossing pieces of fish from one cat to the next. A black and white cat ran into a tabby as it tried to catch a morsel. Before Felix could toss another piece at it, someone else tossed it first.

Jerking his head, his eyes widened as Byleth walked down the steps and sat next to him. She didn’t say anything, just held a small bag of fish scraps.

Did she do this too? Or did she know that he did?

Felix didn’t ask. If it was the second one, embarrassment would kill him. He broke of the tail from a fish and tossed it at pure black cat instead. A seagull cried above them, wanting to swoop down and steal a piece. An older cat, grey and grizzled, looked up and hissed.

“I call that one Jeralt,” Byleth said, breaking the silence.

Felix blinked. It had been years since he’d thought of her father and he snorted. “I’m not sure if he would like that.”

“He protects the other cats,” Byleth explained, tossing the old cat an extra piece. She smiled fondly. “He’s Jeralt.”

Felix glanced at her before gesturing at a tabby kitten. “That one’s Dexter.”

She turned to it, giving it a quick one over before nodding. “Looks like it too.” Byleth gestured at the twin black cats that wrestled with one another, more interested in each other’s tails than they were food. “Ivy and Hugo.”

Felix chuckled. He wondered if their lists overlapped, if there were names both of their lists had. If she knew why she had a list anymore than he did. “The black one with a white foot is Beatrix.”

He wondered what she thought of children, of settling down. Of travelling, sword in one hand, babe in the other. Felix had never asked these questions before, he never found the need to. But she was beside him and her ring was around his neck and maybe he wanted to wake up before her more mornings, to simply stare at her. To be all those things he had laughed at as a youth.

“Byleth,” he said, clasping her hand. “I love you.”

Byelth stared at him, her eyes wide, before smiling softly. “Me too.”

His future was tied to hers, one way or another. Maybe it was time he asked those questions.


End file.
